Chapter 5: The Shower

"Not here," Ingrid said against his mouth.

Cavan stopped with his hands in her hair.

"The lens," she said, breathless. "It only covers the bed. The bathroom has nothing."

"You're sure?"

"I picked every fixture in that room myself."

He looked at her for one long second.

She hooked a finger in his tie and walked backward.

The bathroom door closed behind them, and the lock clicked.

Posy was asleep down the hall behind a shut door, with a noise machine humming on her nightstand.

Ingrid's live-in housekeeper was in the staff room by the service door, and she had promised to listen for the child.

Ingrid turned on the shower to cover the sound, and the steam began to rise.

"Take it off," she said.

"Take what off?"

"The suit. It's the ugliest suit I've ever seen, and I want it gone."

Cavan laughed, low in his chest, and it went straight through her.

He shrugged out of the jacket and dropped it on the tile.

The tie went next, then the shirt, button by button, with her watching every one.

His chest was broad and hard, and across his ribs ran a long pale scar, a line of old stitches.

Another scar cut across his left shoulder.

She put her palm flat over it.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"Who did this to you?"

"Later," he said, and caught her wrist, and kissed the inside of it.

Her knees nearly gave out.

He undid the buttons of her white jacket, then the blouse beneath it, and pushed both off her shoulders.

Her bra went the same way.

He looked at her breasts in the soft light, and the look alone made her nipples tighten.

"God, Ingrid," he said.

"Don't talk," she said. "Touch me."

He cupped one breast and ran his thumb over the peak until she hissed.

Then his mouth was there, hot and slow, and she arched into him and gripped his hair.

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